


Memories and Mask Baubles

by kittymsmith



Series: Porkchops [4]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Lifeline is a bro, Other, Wraith POV - Freeform, casual/realistic(?) Mirage/Bloodhound, wraith has cats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-18 06:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18244490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittymsmith/pseuds/kittymsmith
Summary: Wraith, feeling the burn of a subpar season, planned to spend the month break between seasons wallowing in her apartment. She'd forgotten that making friends with Elliot meant this wouldn't be allowed to happen. And that, somehow, in making friends with Elliot she'd made friends with Bloodhound. Her season break was about to go from very depressing to very interesting.(Spiritual Successor with a much heavier focus on Miragehound: Serendipity)





	1. A Season Ends, An Adventure Begins

**Author's Note:**

> *I'm trying with Lifeline's accent but forgiveness pls ;_;
> 
> Another installation in the series. :) For context on how I write in the Apex/Titanfall universe please read "Porkchops" at the beginning of the series, it establishes everything basically. 
> 
> Kudos and reviews are always much much appreciated; if you have any requests, questions or suggestions, you're welcomed and encouraged to leave them in a comment so I can act accordingly!
> 
> Happy reading time. :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter length is not uniform, promise they're not all this short.

“Hey, Wraith!” Wraith glanced back to see Ajay running towards her, her little drone puttering behind her like a puppy. She was probably the only Legend that didn’t look much different in street clothes versus her Apex gear-more crop tops, but the same amount of baggy cargo pants and bandanas.

 “Sup.”

“Hi, look,” she habitually placed a hand on the little orb-head? Of her drone, like a mother with a toddler, “we’re all getting’ t’geda for drinks. End of de season, y’know?”

“Right.” Wraith had been looking forward to it. The season had _sucked_ for her-she’d been losing games left a right like some Mid-Tier run amok, her popularity had gone down so much her apartment had moved to the fifth floor and she’d even received a couple death threats from losers who bet too much money on her winning however many matches. It was ridiculous. She needed the month between seasons to recoup and get her game back in fucking order.

“You should come dis time!”

Wraith blinked, hands twitching, sparking a little and sending ripples of pain up her arms. “Oh, uh, thanks Lifeline, really. But I’m good.”

“Oh, c’mon.” Ajay smiled. “It’d be fun.”

Wraith put on a polite smile that she hoped made it clear how much she wanted to watch House Finders with her cats. “Really, Ajay. Thanks. But no.”

“You never go out!”

“No.”

“Everybodeh is comin’.”

“Yeah I don’t-“

“Even _Bloodhound_ is going!”

Wraith paused. _That_ was out of order. “Bloodhound?”

She nodded, her robot copying the action with his little orb-head. “I know, right? It was a good season for dem, maybe they feelin’ it dis time.”

Wraith’s nail caught on the sleeve of her sweater, at which point she realized she’d been fidgeting with it. She was such a fucking wreck. “Huh. Well I hope they enjoy it.”

“But-“ Ajay stopped herself and sighed. “Alright Wraith. Not like I can make you.”

“See you later, Ajay.” Wraith turned and walked away, trying to not let Doc’s sad little robot noise get to her. _I’ll feed you a syringe pack later little dude_. She took the elevator to her floor and locked her apartment door behind her. Her three cats-Bubbles the white Persian, Buttercup the Siamese and Blossom the tortishell, approached in a mixture of meows, brrs and chitters that made Wraith feel like the center of the world. “Hello babies, hello,” she smiled, bending down to pet them all and then walked to the couch, where they all tried to suffocate her at the same time as a sign of affection.

Within ten minutes she had House Finders and the cats arranged around her torso and legs. An episode-and-a-half later, Wraith was half asleep.

_ Someone is here.  _


	2. How The Fuck Did You Get Into My House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elliot does a little B@E to cheer up Wraith. Bloodhound tries to pet three cats at once.

Her eyes snapped open as she felt a weight scooch her couch forward. She tensed and turned, ready to strike-

“Is this all you watch?” Elliot reached down as the shock stopped Wraith from killing him, grabbing the remote and flipping a few channels. “Seriously, you’re like, eighty.”

“The fuck?” Wraith, not knowing what to do first, tried to grab her remote back. The lights suddenly turned on and she fell back, covering her face. “What the _fuck_.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Bloodhound’s ventilation huff preceded their entrance into Wraith’s eyesight. She moved her hands and, for the first time ever, saw them in street clothes. They _never_ wore street clothes. No one had ever seen them outside of their Apex costumes, even the officials. She sat up again, garnering a chorus of complaining meows. They wore their mask, minus a lot of the frills and with some weird slot underneath the respirator, and then a gray hoodie that was…deeeefinately Elliot’s, but carefully nondescript otherwise (the only reason she knew was because she’d bought it for him when she combined Baileys and Amazon), as well as a puffy camo vest over the hoodie, both hoods pulled up. They topped it off with combat boots and jeans that were just big enough to be nondescript, but not big enough to be ill fitting. For some reason, Wraith had expected them to be a little more…refined? “I didn’t think you had been sleep-“ They stopped and looked down. _“köttur_.”

“Huh?”

Bloodhound reached out a hand, still gloved but in a much slimmer leather, and held it in front of Bubbles face. She sniffed, then graced them the ability to pet. They quickly got the attention of Buttercup and began petting them as well. Blossom loyally remained in Wraith’s lap, sleeping despite the noise. Wraith petted her, blinking slowly as she processed what the hell was going on. She looked at Elliot, still channel surfing. “What the hell is going on?”

He blinked, then dropped the remote on Blossom-who was, again, undisturbed. “Oh! Right. You’re coming out tonight.”

“No, I’m not,” Wraith said, though she suspected she was about to lose any choice in the matter.

“Yeah, you are. And not in that.” Elliot gestured flippantly at Wraith’s oversized sweater and leggings. He was never a proponent against comfy clothes, but the boy believed there were _certain occasions_ that required dressing up.

“But I like this!”

“You look like a librarian. A _middle school_ librarian.”

“Bloodhound looks like they’re going to go out and shoot dinner but you’re not critiquing their style!” She turned her head. “Sorry. It’s the vest.”

“I know,” said Bloodhound, who then picked up Bubbles and started cooing at her in whatever language they spoke. “So pretty. Allfather has made magnificent creatures. Cats are one of those he put the most time into.”

 _He sure liked punching some of them in the face, though,_ she thought while looking at Bubble’s adorable dumb smushed face. “I thought you were into birds.”

“Cats are good.”

“Oh…do you, uh, have a cat?” What the fuck was going on. She just wanted to sleep until the end of the season break but now the Most Mysterious Motherfucker was just in her apartment cuddling her cat while Mirage scoffed at her closet down the hall. When did she enter _this_ fucking in-circle? Jesus.

“Nr. Heflin is…picky.”

“Ah. I get the impression with the whole…bird…ness.”

“Ja.”

Slowly moving puddle kitty from her lap to the couch, Wraith stood. She felt naked, and weird. She hadn’t ever had people just _make_ her go out before. Nobody had ever really…cared? Well, she guessed Ajay did. But if Ajay had broken into her apartment (how the hell did Elliot do that, anyway?) and bashed her clothing choices she would have kicked her out by now. Not that she liked Elliot doing what he was doing, but it wasn’t so much of a violation she was going to throw him. Or she didn’t have the motivation. Wait, Bloodhound was an accomplice, accomplices had information. “So…did he make you…?”

Bloodhound visibly stilled a moment, massaging Bubbles head. Wraith realized they’d never directly acknowledged that she knew. Or that she was Elliot’s friend-she’d hardly acknowledged that. Or at least comprehended it. This was the moment of truth. “Ehm…yeah.”

“And you went along with it.”

“I was persuaded.”

“Like this?” She gestured where Elliot was now tossing articles of clothing out of her room-granted, they were folded.

“Less violent.”

“…Puppy-dog eyes?”

They sighed. “So that’s what those are called.”

Elliot emerged with clothes over one arm and a grin. “I’ve got the perfect ensimple-ensandt-ensumb-ensam-you’ll look good.”

Wraith sighed, taking the outfit. Black skinny jeans, a grey band t-shirt she didn’t know she owned, and laced black boots. She looked at his outfit; dark gray shirt with a faded logo from a local brewery on Solace, jeans and boots. Simple, yet he looked a hell of a lot more refined than Bloodhound, gas-mask notwithstanding. She was surprised he didn’t choose a turtleneck. “What, are we supposed to compliment?”

“Huh? Oh, nah it just fits your edgy aesthetic.”

“I have an edgy aesthetic?”

“Uh, yeah? Y’know. Dark past, brooding, mild depressive episodes broken by a determined sprint toward your common but passionately pursued goals held together by Evanesce and duct tape.”

Wraith blinked.

“I would have said Nirvana,” Bloodhound said.

Wraith blinked again. “Why are you making me go out again?”

“You’re in the mild depressive episode phase.”

“I am?” She paused, glancing around her messy apartment that hadn’t seen sunlight in days. “Oh. I am.”

“Hey, it happens. Oh, uh, b-by the way not saying the aesthetic totally defines you as a person or anything, but you lay it on pretty heavy in-game.”

Wraith nodded, re-evaluating her entire fucking existence while going to get dressed.


	3. Twirl and Bow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wraith has an episode and Bloodhound realize's their purpose.

She looked at herself from one side, then the other, then turned around. Then twirled, landing in a deep bow that was interrupted by a stabbing headache that brought her to her knees. She inhaled through her teeth and grabbed her head, curling up in a ball. Short little gasps coincided with rushes of electricity; she lifted her head, saw triple of everything and then fell back onto the carpet, convulsing. _No, no, no, no, no-_

_ It’s not right, it’s not the right- _

_No, no, no stop, no-_

_ This isn’t yours-it’s mine- it’s hers _

_I’m sorry-_

_ You should stop, you should stop- _

_I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-_

A knock on the door entered her headspace, and the pain was gone as quickly as it had come. She shivered, bluish electricity rippling through her veins, spiking up and down until it reached her toes. _So that, I did that before. Twirl and bow, twirl and bow…_

“Wraith?” Elliot. Elliot-oh, yeah, the present. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them. She flexed her fingers and toes, but her arms and legs felt like led. _God-fucking damn it._ “Wraith?”

“Yeah, yeah I,” she cleared her throat and sighed. “Come in.” Elliot opened the door and flicked on the big lights-she’d only had a lamp on-pausing. She couldn’t see him of course, just her dumb ceiling, but she managed to wiggle her hand. “Hey. Can you uh, can you help me up?”

Elliot’s face appeared above her own, written with concern as he grabbed her arms and pulled her into a sitting position, then standing. He let go but she fell back and he had to catch her. “Shit Wraith, you alright?”

“I-I’ll be fine,” she swallowed as she felt blood, cold and tingling, rush back to her extremities. “Just need you. Uh, wait not like-just hold me a moment.”

Elliot’s brow furrowed. “What happened?”

She’d never told anyone-hell, no one knew. Not since MCU. She’d usually just lay on the floor a couple hours. “An, uh…epi..sode.”

“Like…like a seizure?”

Wraith had to honestly try and remember what that was. She was awake and alert but somehow everything was all a fog. “Yeah, sort of. I, uh, sometimes I remember things, I get memories and just…” she moved her hands, arms stiff, and flapped them, “go wonky.”

“Memories?” Elliot glanced back as Bloodhound, now hauling Bubbles and Buttercup, peeked around the doorway. “I…Listen Wraith you don’t actually have to go out if you don’t wa-“

“No!” She stopped and shivered, knees going weak. Elliot’s hands gripped her arms, pulling her up till her knees locked. That voice, normally kind, guiding-it was going crazy, it had nothing to focus on but that memory. Twirl and bow, twirl and bow... She didn’t want to be there. In the awkward silence she steadied herself, then slowly stood on her own and breathed deeply. “No,” she said, much quieter, “right now I’d rather be anywhere else. I-I’m fine, really. It’s part of whatever happened to me.”

“You mean the thing that made you have freaky interdi-indi-interdimosel-interdimensional! Those powers?”

Wraith nodded. “I’m all kinds of fucked up, man.”

“You have to be to have this job.” He smiled a bit and threw his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go forget we’re fucked up by getting fucked up, sound good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, lets get fucked up.”

Bloodhound, realizing their place in all this, placed the cats down and sighed. “So, this is why you insisted I come.”

Elliot grinned in their direction, a twinkle in his eye, and winked. “You got _bamboozled_.”


	4. This Ain't Your Little Bitch Straw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wraith and Elliot cope with being fucked up by getting fucked up. Bloodhound reaps the rewards (consequences?) of associating with two fuckin idiots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all this is honestly probably my favorite chapter to write and I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing. 
> 
> Thank you to those that have/or may in the future commented and left kudos! It warms my heart, love seeing what y'all got to say!

Wraith had been to the town outside the Apex Arena three times. Once to meet the Officials for lunch during a yearly performance review, which amounted to “keep being an interdimensional freakshow and we’ll give you a raise”, and another time with Ajay when she was just a Mid-Tier player (a very brief period) and was _desperate_ for a mini-fridge to hide her food from her roommates. Mid-Tier players didn’t have passes for the Apex busses like the High-Tier players, and cars were only permitted to Legends. She’d bribed Wraith with the promise of a lot of Jamaican food. The third time was now, with Elliot and Bloodhound, in Elliot’s car that was some Solace brand Wraith didn’t recognize. It was fancy as shit, though.

They parked in front of a brick building with neon lights spelling out _The Bar_. Talk about minimal effort. She got out of the car, realizing she didn’t even know the name of the town or any of the buildings in it, where things were, what was available. Man, she needed to get out more. She followed Elliot and Bloodhound inside. Worn wood flooring, a long bar table to the right with liquors on shelves behind it and then a variety of chairs and tables to sit at, a few booths along the walls, a stage shoved in a corner and a blackjack table in the corner opposite.

The patrons, of which there was a reasonable amount for a Saturday evening, did not seem stunned at their presence. Wraith was used to getting mobbed, or at the very least bothered, if she went much of anywhere outside of the Apex residential grounds. Elliot always had stories about getting half trampled by beautiful people when he went to visit his mother during season breaks. Bloodhound never said where they went, they always just left. But here the people just looked, a few women and men paying particular attention to Elliot, a few others whispering at the appearance of Bloodhound, but no one took pictures or launched themselves over for an autograph. It was refreshing. Aaaaaand probably an Apex regulation protected by threat of permadeath.

“Wraith!” Ajay waved from where she and the other Legends had shoved a few tables together to sit at as a group. Wraith waved back, smiling slightly. The voice was quiet now in the hum of the bar and her mind had cleared, more or less. She walked over, falling behind Bloodhound and Elliot and sat beside Ajay, who lightly punched her shoulder with a grin. “Knew _someone_ would be able to drag you outta dere.”

Wraith paused and looked over at Elliot. “Did she send you?”

“Huh?” He’d already gotten a drink from…somewhere? “Oh, no. I actually care about you.”

“Huh.”

“I know. Weird, right?” He grinned, sipping his drink. Wraith settled into the mood of the table; jovial, casual. Intimate, even as she shrank into the background and watched. She was comfortable there. Conversation ebbed and flowed between subjects, often about the games, sometimes about families. Though her bio still said she was trying to earn money to visit them, Anita had actually already visited her family and continued to on the regular. This time they were planning some insane espionage mission that was somehow a family bonding activity. Gibraltar got bubbly whenever he could bring up his boyfriend, the bubbliness increasing with every pint he had.

She noticed Ajay was sort of quiet as well and shared a few small smiles of solidarity; neither of them had loved ones to go back to, one by choice and one by freakish accident. Though Ajay did dip into conversation now and then about going back to the Frontier Corps. Wraith was entertaining the idea of tagging along (read: fantasizing about something fantastic that she was never going to do) when she noticed Bloodhound finally order a drink. She’d been sipping Zinfandel and Elliot was half in the bag on two strawberry daiquiris and a Long Island Ice Tea, but Bloodhound, unsurprisingly, ordered bourbon on the rocks.

A patron sitting just a table over noticed and snorted. This drew Bloodhound’s attention, which in turn drew everyone else’s. “Why the hell did you order that?”

“Because I wanted it.” They said.

“You’re wearing a mask.” The patron leered. “Do we get to see what’s under it?”

Elliot’s hand twitched, eyes darting between Bloodhound and the patron. Everyone else was watching, glancing between each other, wondering if this would be a more permanent Bloodhound Incident. They reached into the pocket of their coat while staring, perfectly still, at the guy. Their hand stayed there a moment, then pulled out…

A neon pink curly straw.

And not a cheapy little bitch curly straw. It had loop-de-loops and swirls and dips galore, the motherfucker looked like that rollercoaster designed to kill people had a baby with that one stock image of an atom every middle school teacher has on their desk. Bloodhound dropped it in their bourbon, popped it into the slot under their respirator and took a sip, still staring at the guy, who was by now a little uncomfortable, and then set the glass down.

Silence.

The guy blinked. He turned around.

The entire table started laughing so hard the walls shook. Wraith spilt her wine, Gibraltar was red in the face and Elliot, visibly resisting every urge to hug Bloodhound tightly as possible, was crying in-between scream-laughs like some deranged half-drunk donkey. Bloodhound was even laughing at themselves-Wraith hadn’t ever thought she’d see that. It was great, it was fantastic, everyone was enthusiastically congratulating Bloodhound on doing the single funniest thing they’d ever seen.

The last thing Wraith remembered was Elliot shouting, “another round for the table!”


	5. The Side Effects of a Successful Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wraith wakes up hungover and is totally pissed about that until she realizes where she is.

_I wanna diiiiiie_. Wraith woke up but didn’t open her eyes. Her brain was beating behind her eyesockets like a heart about to explode and hurt about that much. Everything was stiff, everything hurt. The carpet was soft, at least.

Wait. She didn’t have carpet.

She eased her eyes open, blinking as they focused on the back of a couch. Her tongue felt like a cotton ball. She propped herself up on her elbow and looked around. Walls, deep blue ones. A counter that with two stools that led into a kitchen around the corner. She crawled past the couch to see a singular, large room. Between the couch and a large television-like really large, way too large- was a coffee table, then to the side of this was a window with a desk, laptop, notebook, some pictures she couldn’t see the contents of from the floor. The far wall had the front door and a hall leading elsewhere.

But the part that made her wake up and look was the wall the desk was on, spanning the whole side of the room. It was a mural. Snow, mounds of it, mountains in a distant fog and a deeply, deeply dark sky filled with stars and galaxies and what she thought might be the Northern Lights people from Earth always talked about. Below a lake, or maybe part of the ocean, and around that lake a village. There were cars, and electric streetlights so it wasn’t like it was ancient, but it was small, and cozy looking, with the windows lit and chimneys puffing smoke. One window had a little boy smiling and waving. She was so caught up letting herself gradually wake up to it that she almost missed the shifting noise behind her.

 _Fuck, the couch_. This wasn’t her house, she didn’t know whose it was, or how she got there or – fuuuuuck. She didn’t remember anything after Elliot ordered more drinks. Swallowing dryly Wraith got up to her knees and looked at the couch, covering her mouth.

Bloodhound and Elliot were cuddled up together on the couch, Bloodhound’s face to Elliot’s chest. Her head beat with a vague memory of them stumbling ahead of her. A glint-oh fuck, they weren’t wearing their mask. The hood of the vest they wore was the only thing stopping Wraith from knowing what they looked like. This brought on another realization. _Shit, shit, shit, fuck, oh my God this is Bloodhound’s apartment, oh my god I’m gonna die_ , she repeated this as a mantra as she tip-toed towards the door, pausing, hearing only even, relaxed breathing. It was sweet.

And that mural…

She wouldn’t let Bloodhound know, but she was interrogating Elliot after her hangover let up. Too exhausted to phase through the wall, she risked opening and closing the door and weaved through a few coworkers curled up in the hall-seemed no one made it very far.

She was rather kindly woken up sometime in the late afternoon by Elliot, who half shoved two aspirin between her chapped lips and handed her a water bottle. She made a noise of thanks, if confused.

“Out of your depressed phase?” He smiled some. He was wearing sweatpants and a turtleneck and looked far more refreshed than the bastard had any right to. But he was strangely right. Wraith didn’t think she’d make of habit of getting trashed like that, but she was feeling a hell of a lot better. She nodded. “Good.” His voice got softer, the kind of Elliot that didn’t need to be a wiseass all the time. “You feelin’ alright? I know this isn’t usually your thing.”

She nodded a bit, taking the medicine and sitting up. Blossom was in her lap again, the sweetheart. “Yea-“ she cleared her throat, “yeah. You look great, you asshole.”

“It’s what happens when you continuously make irresponsible decisions for most of your adult life.”

“Sounds like I’ve been missing out.”

“Eh, look on the bright side. Your liver will still work in twenty years.”

She smiled some. “I need to-“

“I fed your cats.”

“God bless you. Alright, how the fuck do you keep getting into my apartment?”

He snorted and held up his index finger, her spare keyring dangling. “On top of the door frame? Really?”

She paused. “Oh.”

He tossed it her way. “Find a better place for it. I already got a copy.”

“When did I say you could make a copy of a key to my apartment?”

“When you phased through my walls unannounced.”

 _Oh right, my actions have consequences._ “Oh. Fair.”

He nodded, scooting her feet out of the way and sitting down. Bubbles readily put her purring smushed-face butt in his lap, but Buttercup watched from the bookshelf like a harbinger of death. “God, why does she do that?”

“She’s a cat.” Wraith adjusted herself, feeling better with every sip of water.

“Why do cats do that?”

“I dunno. They can?”

“Weird.”

“You never had cats?”

“Nope. Or dogs. My brothers were allergic.” He looked thoughtful. “Maybe I should get one. Or both? Or a cat dog? Do they make those, or is it just a cartoon? Like, that’s kind of a stu-stap-stewpi-Heavens, _stupid_ question, but, like, this whole world is pretty weird. So why not?”

Wraith didn’t say anything. Elliot just started chattering, stumbling over his words the faster he went, but like hell was it gonna stop him. The hum of his voice was kind of soothing. Plus, he liked the attention and she was definitely buttering him up for her Bloodhound Questionnaire. Thirty minutes, three water bottles and a sandwich later, she broke his chattering. “Hey Elliot, can I ask you something?”  
He stopped on a dime. “Yeah, sure?”

“It’s about Bloodhound.”

He paused in his petting of Bubbles. “Yeah…s…sure?”

“Like, what are you guys? Actually? I uh…like I get it, but also…you know. I mean, like I’m your friend and I’ve sort of become involved in it and it’s kind of a big deal. You know. For a lot of reasons.”

He chewed his lip while he talked. He also kept looking at his hands, focusing on the petting, Wraith figured to keep them from fidgeting. He fidgeted a lot. “Um. Yeah, yeah you know, yeah. Um. So…”

“Look, I was in the same room this morning.”

He froze. “What ro-“

“Bloodhounds.”

He looked at her, wide eyed.  She wrung her hands together. “I didn’t see anything. I mean, I saw stuff. I saw. Uh. Well I mean I didn’t see anything notable. Besides that TV.”

He inclined his head, seeming to relax. “It’s a big TV.”

“Yeah I mean…why?”

“Honestly don’t know.”

“They never told you?”

He pressed his hands together. “I. I’ve never been in their apartment until this morning.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Seriously?”

  
“Dead seriously. We…we’ve only been a…a…a thing, I-we haven’t like, used uh…it’s been like three months, man.”

Wraith nearly threw her water bottle, hands on head. “ _Three months?_ Nobody in the world has seen their face and it took you three stupid months?”

“Well, actually I saw and _then_ we started-“

“Hold up, and they didn’t kill you? What the fuck? Nope, no that’s it-“ She slid Blossom out of her lap again, marching to her kitchen and returning with more water and two family sized bags of chips because she was not sharing. Elliot looked a little alarmed at having his own. “It’s story time. I mean, you don’t have to say what they look like or anything, but I’ll be damned if I’m not getting the whole deal.”

She’d never seen Elliot stunned out of _not_ talking. “Uh, uh yeah, I uh…I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Nope.” She sat down, placed Blossom back in her lap, and ripped open the chips. “Begin.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Elliot and Bloodhound met. Elliot's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was late, y'all! Mixed up dates. Yeet.

Elliot was having the best round of his life. He only had two kills, yeah, but his damage was through the roof and that exhilarating thrill, that blood pumping insanity filled every drop of sweat on his brow, it was intoxicating. The cameras were on him, watching every jump, every decoy, every sly wink upwards at an audience that loved every moment of him; even the bad ones, but especially the good ones. Oh yeah, the good ones were awesome. _He_ was awesome. A shot grazed his shoulder, no problem! He turned around and flung a wild peacekeeper shot, hitting Ajay right in the chest. She stumbled and tried to leap off the edge-gotcha! Another and she was down. He strutted up, grinned for the Cameras and kicked her right in the face. _Sorry, Jay, but you woulda done the same._

The thrill took him to the roof where he started sniping, dropping down to charge his shields and heal as needed. He moved roofs, shouting to his last surviving teammate over the comm system and pinging enemies until they, too, died. He _would_ get their banner but there were four other teams down there. Total suicide mission. He stuck it out and made what would look like an attempt to the cameras, but once the timer ran out he high-tailed it toward Skull Town; usually a hellscape, right now it was silent as a grave.

He kept an eye out, head down, and looted. Hyper-aware of the cameras still trained on him, he made sure to supply plenty of witty commentary, though at a lowered volume; his fat mouth had gotten him killed more than once. Ever since he had started getting paired with Wraith he’d learned to quell it. Sometimes. At least when he was alone and vulnerable.

He found a longbow and used a scope he’d been hanging on to and jumped up a building for some long range sniping. Nothing interesting, nothing interesting, oh so boring-…

” _Heeeeeeello there,_ ” he said to himself, zooming in on a raven perched on a small radio tower. Lowering his sights, he centered on none other than Bloodhound. With the highest Championship cumulation of any Legend ever and the longest win streak, killing Bloodhound always earned bragging rights. And Elliot did _so love_ to brag.

But then he saw something else-a Fledgling he hardly recognized sneaking up behind him. Bloodhound crouched down, making Elliot have to recalibrate, and in this moment the Fledgling did something unexpected; he came up and kicked Bloodhound’s feet out from under them, then grabbed their neck. Elliot thought they were going for a brutal finisher, but it ended up being much worse.

They ripped off the mask. One swift movement and there was the biggest secret in the Frontier. Bloodhound’s face, and it was _panicked_. Without really even thinking Elliot flung his peacekeeper around and took out the cameras with one shot, then used the sniper on the Fledgling-one hit kill. Bloodhound looked at him. _Looked_. With their eyes. A hand clutched over their heart, still as a deer staring down the barrel of a rifle.

But Elliot didn’t shoot.

Neither did Bloodhound.

A breeze passed, blowing their hair slightly. He looked around, but no other cameras were nearby. It was just them and the desert. And the bird. When he looked back they had picked up their mask. They glanced and then pulled it over their face, tucking the edges under the collar with shaking hands. They nodded at him. Elliot swallowed and nodded back, a chill running down his spine. Then they left. Quietly as they existed, slipping down the other edge of the roof and towards an ongoing battle.

It wasn’t until he couldn’t see them anymore that he remembered how to breathe.

Mirage didn’t make Champion that round-no surprise being on his own. He was impressed he made it into the final six before some fledgling got their first kill on him. _Good for them, good for them, you know? They all should get one before they leave. Or die._ But he could have made it into the final three if he wasn’t so distracted. Even after the painful resurrection and a shower he couldn’t just shake the image from his mind. The shock in his gut, the familiar feeling he wasn’t sure he liked.

He sat on one of the metal benches in the steaming locker room, a towel draped over his head, and stared at the floor. Maybe if he zoned out a little he could get a handle on things. Then a pair of boots came into his sight. He looked up. _Son of a-_

“Mirage.” Bloodhound said, lowly. They were dressed in their typical gear. That could _not_ be comfortable in all the steam. Just sticky with sweat and damp with water- _eww._

“B-Bloodhound.” Mirage swallowed, literally biting his tongue to keep from stumbling over stupid nervous smallchat. Smalltalk.

“We need to talk.” They extended their arm as their bird flew out of who the hell knew where. Elliot could feel those beady little eyes looking _into_ him. “I will meet you at your door.”

“Wait, you mean- “ They started walking, “hey, hey!” aaaaand kept walking. He held up his hands, then let them flop down. _Other people’s frickin’ children._

But as Bloodhound requested, and because Elliot didn’t exactly have anywhere else he lived, Elliot met them at his door. He paused a moment, waiting for them to say anything, but they didn’t. So, they went in. The bird perched on the curtain rod. Bloodhound took a step in and Elliot made a “ahahahahah!” noise followed by a tongue click that made him realize he was turning into his mother. They stopped, looked at his immaculate white carpet and slipped off their boots before they continued on their predetermined course to the curtains, pulling them shut.

The lighting was dim and warm, orangish when laid over the mostly white and crème interior of Elliot’s Apex apartment. It made for the strange feeling that came from looking at old pictures of relatives you never met but felt you should know. Elliot was honestly not entirely sure he wasn’t about to die _for real_ because of what he saw, identity save notwithstanding.

Bloodhound inhaled deeply. “You saw me.”

“Uh, y-yeah.”

“My face.”

“That. I saw that.”

“You shot the cameras.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Yes.”

“…Why…did you shoot them?”

“Yes.”

Bloodhound cocked their head to the side, mask baubles swinging. “Huh?”

Elliot’s stupid brain finally caught up with his fat mouth. He wanted to smack himself. “I-I mean I-I guess- I uh…I just sort of…wanted to preve-prave-pervent-stop…stop you from being…out…outed? You know it…” He threw his hands in the air. “That guy was an asshole! You don’t just-you know,” Elliot forgot words and made a motion that he hoped looked like he was ripping off a mask and not like he was miming hanging himself, “it’s just-not right, man.”

He couldn’t see any expression; just a shift of feet so they could get a better look at him (how the hell were they so imposing when they had to look UP at him?), so he kept yammering. “I mean, look I don’t know what’s up with the whole mask thing but-but it’s, like, it’s nobody’s business and I-I figured it was…important and-“

“Thank you.”

“-I mean nobody des-sar-desar-DESERVES, Jesus! The-“

“Mirage,” Bloodhound raised their voice just slightly, finally gaining Mirage’s attention, “ _thank you_.”

 _Work brain, work brain, work brain._  He breathed deeply. _Say you’re welcome._ “Elliot.” _You fuck up._

“What?”

“E-Elliot. My…my name’s Elliot. Elliot Witt.” Bloodhound paused. Elliot fidgeted with his fingers and moved to rubbing his arm, mute with uncertainty. Was he still going to die? Was he going to get forgiven-or was Bloodhound going to do something else, something worse than a point-blank shot to the face?

The answer was non-of-the-above. Instead, Elliot watched as Bloodhound reached under their collar and pulled off their mask. They were up close. They were _right there_. He was seeing _their face_. _Nobody_ saw their face. But he did. That face-that mouth, the eyes-they smiled at him. A humble smile that stirred that feeling in him again. That stupid feeling. That stupid feeling he _really_ liked. “I cannot offer you a different name than the one I already have.” Their voice was so sweet and clear without the ventilator.

“T-That’s cool,” he squeaked.

The brows furrowed a little, the corners of the mouth twitched up-oh God, _dimples._ He was _done for_. Then they seemed to put something together. “I thank you for protecting my identity. Much as it’s a letdown, considering those fabulous rumors,” they joked.

Elliot just stared dumbly. Was it selfish, or bad of him to like the face? Without having ever before thought much of Bloodhound, besides admiring their skills and wondering about their past like everyone else? No, no that’s what people did. They saw faces, and sometimes they really liked those faces and wanted to see more of that face in particular. And Elliot wanted to see more of _this_ face.  There was no fault in not being interested in a minimally expressive gas mask. But that stupid feeling in his belly had taken over any logical part of his brain and, instead of putting together an appropriate response to slowly establish a friendship based on trust that would flower into a beautiful relationship that would make his mom finally shut up about finding somebody, he opened his dumb mouth and said the first thing that came to mind; “But you’re _beautiful_.”

Bloodhound paused, eyebrows raised.

 _You fathead, fathead, fathead, fatheaded stupid motherfucker oh my GOOOOOD._ “S-Sorry that was, uh, that was forward.”

Bloodhound shook their head, quickly, seemingly struck dumb a moment. “N-Nr, uh. I…I’m _flattered_.”

Mirage’s rode the wave of confidence that emerged. “Hey, ever feel like being flattered again, you, you, uh, you can visit. Anytime. Me. All the time.”

They let out a little breathy laugh, giving him an obvious once-over. They were blushing. _Booyah._ “I, I suppose.”

“Must wanna take off that mask sometimes.” Elliot smiled.

“You would be right.” They smiled back, just slightly. Then quickly pulled the mask over their head again and inhaling deeply. “I think I will see you again.”

The butterflies in his stomach were so violent he was 75 percent sure he was going to vomit. “I _know_ I’m looking forward to it.”

They let out a little amused huff, seeming to think about it, then held out their arm. Heflin flew and landed, eyeing Elliot, though with far less intensity than in the locker room. Bloodhound went to the entrance and pulled on their boots, tapping the toe of each. They reached for the doorknob as Elliot remembered something “Hey, wait!”

Bloodhound turned around. It was so weird, but in Elliot’s mind he no longer saw the mask as an obtrusion, but an overlay. Beneath it was a beautiful face, eyebrows raised gently, questioning. “What, uh, what about that fledgling? You-you know, the one. That one.”

Under that mask he imagined they raised their eyebrows further. But he could just _hear_ the smile in their voice; “Oh, it was his fourth round. Allfather had decided his time.” They cocked their head to the side, seeming to study him. “In the same way they decide mine.”

Before Elliot could request clarification, they were gone.


	7. Bonus: Bloodhound's Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bloodhound's thoughts after their meeting with Elliot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter! Ended up realizing I'd like to try this out-this really is supposed to be a miragehound fic with way too much set up so....more hound.

Bloodhound took their typical route to their apartment; they used a key on a staff door and slipped through, taking the stairs down two floors and popped back out again, as if from the air, and used every ounce of restraint Allfather had given them to casually enter their apartment. As soon as they closed the door they ripped off their mask, tossed it, and fell against the door, heaving. Heflin landed on the side table and looked at them with concern. Bloodhound paused, then screamed.

This, perhaps worryingly, did not startle the bird.

“What have I done? Allfather forgive me for he has gifted powers to an _idiot_.” They tossed their hands in the air and started pacing. “Jesus Christ on a bicycle, Heflin, I’m an _idiot._ ”

She squawked quietly in agreement.

Bloodhound inhaled sharply and pointed at her. “You’re not supposed to agree with me.”

She made a noise that communicated she thought they preferred honesty. Bloodhound huffed but was gentle when they petted her feathers. It had been years since someone had seen their face-at least, while knowing they were Bloodhound. Even with the accent and their admittedly rudimentary English ability they did not fear recognition unmasked. No one had made the connection-the masked hunter existed continents or planets away from an individual with a funny way of saying things and a hundred different names. They communicated only in writing, they only had a laptop for technology-well, they did until they bought that TV…hell, they didn’t even use their own Netflix account.

But then there was the Fledgling, and now there was Elliot Witt. And with Elliot Witt came risk and with that risk there was the possibility Bloodhound had just thrown their entire life, one that had taken so long to build again from the ground, into the mud.

And yet.

With that risk and fear and worry and honest to god terror rattling Bloodhound’s bones like the shaking of the Earth would as a child, with the knarled knot of maybes and I-don’t-knows trying to twist them inside out from the gut, there was a bit of hope. A bit of faith.

“Faith, faith yes.” They swallowed and slowly got to their knees in front of Heflin, resting their chin and arms on the side table. They gently pet Heflin’s feathers. They thought of Elliot again and breathed deeply. They had no idea how they’d walked out of there so smoothly, their legs now were as reliable as a new foals. Their arms felt unsteady and their heart was beating, so, so fast… “Oh, Heflin.” They sighed, looking up at her. “I wish I had the heart of a raven. It takes more than a silly compliment to warm you up.”

Heflin nuzzled their hand and settled down to be petted. She’d been a gift from Allfather, the sign that told them their new life was to begin. She was a constant, reliable and infallible. A perfect representation of Allfather’s guidance. Bloodhound set their jaw, looking beyond Heflin to their desk. A laptop, a notebook, and a small token, a stone gifted by someone very dear who believed in Bloodhound’s journey. They inhaled deeply.

If Allfather had faith in Elliot Witt, then Bloodhound would as well. The warm feeling in their heart had to mean something…right?


	8. It Always Progresses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elliot wraps up his story; Wraith hears a knowing whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, the final chapter! Thanks to anyone/everyone who comments/kudos this work! It's always nice to wake up to people's feedback!
> 
> Pt. 2 will be far more Miragehound centric-I realized after pre-writing this whole thing I really should have made it into a longer fic, but I just honestly didn't have the time with college coming up and wanted to make sure what you read had more or less an ending. The sequel to this I will more than likely only pre-write a few chapters at a time and listen to your lovely feedback as I go. 
> 
> In the meantime, y'all have a wonderful day!

“There’s no way you were that suave.” Wraith gestured pointedly with a chip. She was nearly done with her bag while Elliot hadn’t gotten through a quarter of his.

“I was!” Elliot pouted. “You’d be amazed what a compliment can do to my ego.”

“Oh, I’ve seen it. That’s why I never compliment you.”

“Har, har, har.” He inhaled deeply, letting Bubbles sniff his chip before eating it. “Either way we…well, they started visiting. First it was just come and go-coffee. Then they started baking stuff and bringing it over. Stuff from home.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s good shit! I mean, some of it was only okay-don’t ever tell them I said that- but they made some dough stuff called Kleina and it was _good_. And then this, this stuff. God it, it’s kind of like a tart but also a pie depending on what you do. I’d die before I’d be able to pronounce it.”

“Mm.” She smiled a bit, leaning forward with her head on her hand. “Who made the first real move?”

“They did.” He bit his lip, looking off with a bit of a smile. “I mentioned my mom’s ceviche and they were like, “hey I’ve heard that’s good let’s make some” and then we tried making it. First date.”

“How did it turn out?”

“The ceviche? Eh, okay. Couldn’t find the right fish so it was kinda weird. The sex was great though.”

Wraith took a moment to process that statement, then tossed her hands up. “Of course you did.”

“Of _course_ I did.” He grinned and burst out laughing when she whacked him in the face with a throw pillow. “Hey, it’s worked out.”

She rolled her eyes. “TMI aside, I’m happy for you.”

He smiled some. “Thanks.”

“Gonna be all over each other during the season break?”

He laughed. “Ah, hah, no, no they’re…going…somewhere. I dunno. They left this morning.” He sighed, smile not reaching his eyes. “But it won’t always be like that. It won’t.”

“No.” Wraith, feeling a whisper in the back of her mind, put a supportive hand on his shoulder. “It won’t.

 


End file.
